THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


V 


CHRISTMASTIDE 


CONTAINING 


FOUR   FAMOUS  POEMS  BY  FAVORITE  AMERICAN 

POETS 


BOSTON 
JAMES    R.   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY 

LATE  TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  AND  FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  Co. 
1878 


'  COPYRIGHT,  1877. 
BY  JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  &  CO. 


THE  RIVER   PATH     .  BY  JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 
EXCELSIOR      ....  BY  HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 

THE   ROSE BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

BABY   BELL  .  BY  THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH. 


759404 


of  Illustrations. 

ENGRAVED  BY  A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 

THE    RIVER    PATH. 

"  The  tangled  bank  below  was  still  "     .     .     .     .  T.  MORAN. 

"  No  rustle  from  the  birchen  stem  "      ....  WM.  HART. 

"  The  dusk  of  twilight  round  us  grew  "     .     .     .  J.  A.  BROWN, 

"  We  saw  the  hill-tops  glorified  " S.  COLMAN. 

"  A  tender  glow,  exceeding  fair  " J.  A.  BROWN. 

"  A  dream  of  day  without  its  glare  "     .    .    .    .  A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 

"  While  dark,  through  willowy  vistas  seen  "  .     .  J.  McENTEE. 

"  We  gazed  upon  those  hills  of  God  "  .     .     .     .  A.  R.  WAUD. 

"  Beckoned  our  dear  ones  gone  before  "...  JESSIE  CURTIS. 

Group  of  Cherubs JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  The  voices  lost  to  mortal  ear  " JESSIE  CURTIS, 

"  The  hills  swung  open  to  the  light  "     .     .     .     .  S.  COLMAN. 

"  Down  glade  and  glen  and  bank  it  rolled  "  .     .  W.  HART. 

"  When  our  feet  draw  near 

The  river  dark  " T.  MORAN. 


List  of  Illustrations. 


"  On  thy  eternal  hills  look  forth  " 

Tail-Piece 

Vignette  —  Violets 


A.  R.  WAUD. 

A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 

H.  V.  ANTHONY. 


EXCELSIOR. 

"  The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast  "    .    . 

"  A  youth,  who  bore,  mid  snow  and  ice  "    .     . 
"  His  brow  was  sad ;  his  eye  beneath 
Flashed  like  a  falchion  from  its  sheath  "  .     . 

"  In  happy  homes  he  saw  the  light "  .  .  .  . 
" '  Try  not  the  Pass ! '  the  old  man  said  "  .  . 
"  The  roaring  torrent 's  deep  and  wide  "  .  . 

"'  O  stay,'  the  maiden  said  " 

"  Beware  the  pine-tree's  withered  branch  " 
"  A  voice  replied  far  up  the  height "  .    .    .    . 
"  The  pious  Monks  of  St.  Bernard  "  .     .    .    . 
"  A  voice  cried  through  the  startled  air  "    .    . 

Convent  of  St.  Bernard 

"  Lifeless,  but  beautiful  he  lay  " 

Tail-Piece 

Vignette  —  Alpine  Flowers 


A.  R.  WAUD. 
W.  HOMER. 

W.  HOMER. 
T.  MORAN. 
A.  R.  WAUD. 
T.  MORAN. 
W.  HOMER. 

J.  MCENTEE. 

• 

T.  MORAN. 

CHARLES  KENDRICK. 

A.  R.  WAUD. 

A.  R.  WAUD. 

W.  HOMER. 

A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 

F.  T.  MERRILL. 


List  of  Illustrations. 


THE    ROSE. 

"  In  his  tower  sat  the  poet " 

"  On  the  rock  the  billow  bursteth  "... 
"  Take,  O  sea  !  the  tender  blossom  "  .  . 
"  Forth  into  the  night  he  hurled  it  "  v  V 
"  Foam  and  spray  drive  back  to  leeward  " 
"  Stands  a  maiden,  on  the  morrow  "  .  . 
"  Touch  not,  sea,  the  blessed  letters  "  .  . 
"  Brings  a  little  rose,  and  throws  it "  .  . 
".Full  of  bliss  she  takes  the  token  "... 

"  The  ocean's  fierce  unrest " 

"  In  his  tower  sits  the  poet " 

"  Uvp  the  beach  the  ocean  slideth  "... 
"  Maiden  lips,  with  love  grown  bolder  "     . 

Tail-Piece 

Vignette  —  Rose 


C.  S.  REINHART. 
R.  SWAIN  GIFFORD. 
C.  S.  REINHART. 
A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 
A.  R.  WAUD. 
MARY  HALLOCK  FOOTE. 
A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 
C.  S.  REINHART. 
MARY  HALLOCK  FOOTE. 
R.  SWAIN  GIFFORD. 
C.  S.  REINHART. 
A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 
C.  S.  REINHART. 
A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 
F.  T.  MERRILL. 


BABY    BELL. 

"  How  came  the  dainty  Baby  Bell " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  O'er  which  the  white-winged  angels  go  "     .     .    JESSIE  CURTIS. 


List  of  Illustrations. 

"  The  celestial  asphodels  " A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 

Lilies  of  the  Valley A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 

"  The  swallows  built  beneath  the  eaves  "  .    .    .  T.  MORAN. 

"  O'er  the  porch  the  trembling  vine  "     ....  A.  R.  WAUD. 

"  Baby,  dainty  Baby  Bell " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  The  light 

Of  those  oped  gates  of  Paradise  " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  The  mother's  being  ceased  on  earth  "...  JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  And  now  the  orchards,  which  were  white  "  .     .  J.  A.  BROWN. 

"  The  grapes  hung  purpling  in  the  grange  "  .     .  F.  T.  MERRILL. 

"  Her  lissome  form  more  perfect  grew  "...  JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  Around  her  pale  angelic  brow 

We  saw  a  slender  ring  of  flame  " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  God's  hand  had  taken  away  the  seal 

That  held  the  portals  of  her  speech  "...  JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  We  never  held  her  being's  key  " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  We  saw  its  shadow  ere  it  fell " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  All  our  hopes  were  changed  to  fears  "...  JESSIE  CURTIS. 

The  Reaper  Angel .  JESSIE  CURTIS. 

"  At  last  he  came,  the  messenger  " JESSIE  CURTIS. 

Tail-Piece A.  V.  S.  ANTHONY. 


THE  RIVER  PATH. 

No  bird-song  floated  down  the  hill, 
The  tangled  bank  below  was  still ; 


The  River  Path. 


No  ripple  from  the 
water's  hem. 


The  River  Path. 

The  dusk  of  twilight  round  us  grew, 
We  felt  the  falling  of  the  dew; 


For,  from  us,  ere  the  day  was  done, 
The  wooded  hills  shut  out  the  sun. 


The  River  Path. 


But  on  the  river's  farthest  side 


We  saw  the  hilltops  glorified, — 


The  River  Path. 


A  tender  glow,  exceeding  fair, 
A  dream  of  day  without  its  glare. 


The  River  Path. 


With  us  the  damp,  the  chill,  the  gloom : 


With  them  the  sunset's  rosy  bloom ; 


While  dark,  through 


willowy  vistas  seen, 


The  river  rolled  in 


shade   between. 


The  River  Path. 


From  out  the  darkness  where  we  trod, 
We  gazed  upon  those  hills  of  God, 


Whose  liorht  seemed  not  of  moon  or  sun. 


We  spake  not,  but  our  thought  was  one. 


The  River  Path. 


We  paused,  as  if  from  that  bright  shore 
Beckoned  our  dear  ones  gone  before; 


The  River  Path. 


And  stilled  our  beating 


The  voices  lost  to  mortal  ear! 


The  River  Path. 


Sudden  our  pathway  turned  from  night ; 
The  hills  swung  open  to  the  light; 


Through  their  green  gates  the  sunshine 

showed, 
A  long,  slant  splendor  downward  flowed. 


The  River  Path, 


Down  glade  and  glen 
and  bank  it  rolled ; 


It  bridged  the  shaded 


And,  borne  on  piers  of  mist,  allied 


The  shadowy  with  the  sunlit  side ! 


The  River  Path. 

"  So,"  prayed  we,  "  when  our  feet  draw  near 
The  river  dark,  with  mortal  fear, 


"  And   the  night  cometh  chill  with  dew, 
O  Father!  let  thy  light  break  through! 


The  River  Path. 


"  So  let  the  hills  of  doubt  divide, 


So  bridge  with  faith  the  sunless  tide 


"  So  let  the  eyes  that  fail  on  earth 
On  thy  eternal  hills  look  forth ; 


The  River  Path. 

"  And  in  thy  beckoning  angels  know 
The  dear  ones  whom  we  loved  below ! " 


EXCELSIOR. 

THE  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast, 
As  through  an  Alpine  village  passed 


Excelsior. 


A  youth,  who  bore,  mid  snow  and  ice, 
A  banner  with  the  strange  device, 
Excelsior! 


Excelsior. 

His  brow  was  sad;  his  eye  beneath 
Plashed  like  a  falchion  from,  its  sheath, 


And  like  a  silver  clarion  rung 
The  accents  of  that  unknown  tongue, 
Excelsior! 


Excelsior. 


In  happy  homes  he  saw  the  light 
Of  household  fires  gleam  warm  and  bright 
Above,  the  spectral  glaciers  shone, 
And  from  his  lips  escaped  a  groan, 
Excelsior! 


Excelsior. 


"  Try  not  the  Pass  !  " 

the  old  man  said  ; 

"  Dark    lowers    the 

tempest  overhead, 


Excelsior. 


The  roaring  torrent 's  deep  and  wide ! " 
And  loud  that  clarion  voice  replied, 
Excelsior! 


Excelsior. 

"  O  stay,"  the  maiden  said,  "  and  rest 
Thy  weary  head  upon  this  breast ! " 


A  tear  stood  in  his  bright  blue  eye, 
But  still  he  answered,  with  a  sigh, 
Excelsior ! 


Excelsior. 


"  Beware  the  pine-tree's  withered  branch ! 
Beware  the  awful  avalanche ! " 


Excelsior. 


This  was  the  peasant's 
last  Good-night, 

A  voice  replied  far  up  the  height, 
Excelsior ! 


Excelsior. 


At  break  of  day,  as  heavenward 


The  pious  monks  of  Saint  Bernard 


Uttered  the  oft-repeated  prayer, 


Excelsior. 


A  voice  cried  through  the  startled  air, 
Excelsior ! 


Excelsior. 

A  traveller,  by  the  faithful  hound, 
Half-buried  in  the  snow  was  found, 
Still  grasping  in  his  hand  of  ice 
That  banner  with  the  strange  device, 
Excelsior ! 


Excelsior. 


There  in  the  twilight  cold  and  gray, 
Lifeless,  but  beautiful,  he  lay, 


Excelsior. 

And  from  the  sky,  serene  and  far, 
A  voice  fell,  like  a  falling  star, 
Excelsior ! 


TH  E    ROS  E 


A   BALLAD. 


IN  his  tower  sat  the  poet 


Gazing  on  the  roaring  sea, 


The  Rose. 

"  Take  this  rose,"  he  sighed,  "  and  throw  it 

Where  there  's  none  that  loveth  me. 
On  the  rock  the  billow  bursteth 

And  sinks  back  into  the  seas, 


The  Rose. 

But  in  vain  my  spirit  thirsteth 
So  to  burst  and  be  at  ease. 


Take,  O  sea!   the  tender  blossom 
That  hath  lain  against  my  breast ; 


The  Rose. 

On  thy  black  and  angry  bosom 
It  will  find  a  surer  rest. 

Life  is  vain,  and  love  is  hollow, 
Ugly  death  stands  there  behind, 

Hate  and  scorn  and  hunger  follow 
Him  that  toileth  for  his  kind." 

Forth  into  the  night  he  hurled  it, 


The  Rose. 

And  with  bitter  smile  did  mark 
How  the  surly  tempest  whirled  it 

Swift  into  the  hungry  dark. 
Foam  and  spray  drive  back  to  leeward, 


And  the  gale,  with  dreary  moan, 
Drifts  the  helpless  blossom  seaward, 
Through  the  breakers  all  alone. 


II. 


Stands  a  maiden,  on  the  morrow, 


Musing  by  the  wave-beat  strand, 


The  Rose. 

Half  in  hope  and  half  in  sorrow 

Tracing  words  upon  the  sand: 
"  Shall  I  ever  then  behold  him 

Who  hath  been  my  life  so  long,  - 
Ever  to  this  sick  heart  fold  him, — 

Be  the  spirit  of  his  song  ? 
Touch  not,  sea,  the  blessed  letters 

I  have  traced-  upon  thy  shore, 


The  Rose. 

Spare  his  name  whose  spirit  fetters 
Mine  with  love  forevermore ! " 


Swells  the  tide  and  overflows  it, 
But,  with  omen  pure  and  meet, 

Brings  a  little  rose,  and  throws  it 
Humbly  at  the  maiden's  feet. 


The  Rose, 


Full  of  bliss  she  takes  the  token, 


And,  upon  her  snowy  breast, 


The  Rose. 

Soothes  the  ruffled  petals  broken 
With  the  ocean's  fierce  unrest 


"  Love  is  thine,  O  heart !   and  surely 
Peace  shall  also  be  thine  own, 

For  the  heart  that  trusteth  purely 
Never  long  can  pine  alone." 


III. 

In  his  tower  sits  the  poet, 

Blisses  new  and  strange  to  him 


The  Rose. 

Fill  his  heart  and  overflow  it 

With  a  wonder  sweet  and  dim. 

Up  the  beach  the  ocean  slideth 

With  a  whisper  of  delight, 


And  the  moon  in  silence  glideth 

Through  the  peaceful  blue  of  night. 
Rippling  o'er  the  poet's  shoulder 


The  Rose. 


Flows  a  maiden's  golden  hair, 
Maiden  lips,  with  love  grown  bolder, 

Kiss  his  moonlit  forehead  bare. 
"  Life  is  joy,  and  love  is  power, 

Death  all  fetters  doth  unbind, 


The  Rose. 

Strength  and  wisdom  only  flower 

When  we  toil  for  all  our  kind. 
Hope  is  truth,  —  the  future  giveth 

More  than  present  takes  away, 
And  the  soul  forever  liveth 

Nearer  God  from  day  to  day." 
Not  a  word  the  maiden  uttered, 

Fullest  hearts  are  slow  to  speak, 
But  a  withered  rose-leaf  fluttered 

Down  upon  the  poet's  cheek. 


VV-.v-'V-H.  •;'  •    ••-:-.-.•        .      ;  -'.-.     •••'•••:     -    -  -'..'-  -,•,;'••••' 


BABY    BELL 


i. 


HAVE  you  not  heard  the  poets  tell 
How  came  the  dainty  Baby  Bell 

Into  this  world  of  ours  ? 
The  gates  of  heaven  were  left  ajar: 


Baby  Bell. 

With  folded  hands  and  dreamy  eyes, 
Wandering  out  of  Paradise, 
She  saw  this  planet,  like  a  star, 

Hung  in  the  glistening  depths  of  even, 
Its  bridges,  running  to  and  fro, 
O'er  which  the  white-winged  Angels  go, 


Baby  Bell. 

Bearing  the  holy  Dead  to  heaven. 
She  touched  a  bridge  of  flowers,  —  those  feet, 
So  light  they  did  not  bend  the  bells 
Of  the  celestial  asphodels, 

They  fell  like  dew  upon  the  flowers: 

> 

Then  all  the  air  grew  strangely  sweet 

And  thus  came  dainty  Baby  Bell 
Into  this  world  of  ours. 


II. 


She  came  and  brought 


delicious  May. 
The  swallows  built 

beneath  the  eaves ; 
Like  sunlight,  in 

and  out  the  leaves 


The  robins  went,  the  livelong  day; 


Baby  Bell. 


The  lily  swung  its  noiseless  bell ; 

And  o'er  the  porch  the  trembling  vine 
Seemed  bursting  with  its  veins  of  wine. 
How  sweetly,  softly, 

twilight  fell! 
O,  earth  was  full 


of  smgtng-birds 


And  opening 
springtide  flowers, 
When  the  dainty  Baby  Bell 

Came  to  this  world  of  ours ! 


III. 

O  Baby,  dainty  Baby  Bell, 
How  fair  she  grew  from  day  to  day! 
What  woman-nature  filled  her  eyes, 


What  poetry  within  them  lay, — 
Those  deep  and  tender  twilight  eyes, 


Baby  Bell. 

So  full  of  meaning,  pure  and  bright 
As  if  she  yet  stood  in  the  light 
Of  those  oped  gates  of  Paradise. 
And  so  we  loved  her  more  and  more : 
Ah,  never  in  our  hearts  before 

Was  love  so  lovely  born ! 
We  felt  we  had  a  link  between 
This  real  world  and  that  unseen,  — 


Baby  Bell. 

The  land  beyond  the  morn ; 
And  for  the  love  of  those  dear  eyes, 
For  love  of  her  whom  God  led  forth, 
(The  mother's  being  ceased  on  earth 
When  Baby  came  from  Paradise,)  — 
For  love  of  Him  who  smote  our  lives, 

And  woke  the  chords  of  joy  and  pain, 
We  said,  Dear  Christ! — our  hearts  bent  down 

Like  violets  after  rain. 


IV. 


And  now  the  orchards,  which  were  white 


And  red  with  blossoms  when  she  came, 


Were  rich  in  autumn's  mellow  prime; 


Baby  BelL 


The  clustered  apples  burnt  like  flame, 
The  soft-cheeked  peaches  blushed  and  fell, 

The  ivory  chestnut 


The  grapes 

hung  purpling  in  the  grange: 
And  time  wrought  just  as  rich  a  change 
In  little   Baby  Bell. 


Baby  Bell. 


Her  lissome  form  more  perfect  grew, 
And  in  her  features  we  could  trace, 
In  softened  curves,  her  mother's  face. 


Baby  Bell. 

Her  angel-nature  ripened  too: 

We  thought  her  lovely  when  she  came, 

But  she  was  holy,  saintly  now  .  .  . 

Around  her  pale  angelic  brow 
We  saw  a  slender  ring  of  flame! 


V. 

God's  hand  had  taken  away  the  seal 

That  held  the  portals  of  her  speech ; 
And  oft  she  said  a  few  strange  words 


Baby  Bell. 

Whose  meaning  lay  beyond  our  reach. 
She  never  was  a  child  to  us, 
We  never  held  her  being's  key; 
We  could  not  teach  her  holy  things: 
She  was  Christ's  self  in  purity. 


VI. 

It  came  upon  us  by  degrees, 
We  saw  its  shadow  ere  it  fell, 


The  knowledge  that 


our  God  had  sent 


His  messenger  for  Baby  Bell. 

We  shuddered  with  unlanguaged  pain, 


Baby  Bell. 


And  all  our  hopes  were  changed  to  fears, 
And  all  our  thoughts  ran  into  tears 
Like  sunshine  into  rain. 
We  cried  aloud  in  our  belief, 


Baby  Bell. 

"  O,  smite  us  gently,  gently,  God ! 
Teach  us  to  bend  and  kiss  the  rod, 
And  perfect  grow  through  grief." 
Ah!   how  we  loved  her,  God  can  tell; 
Her  heart  was  folded  deep  in  ours. 
Our  hearts  are  broken,  Baby  Bell! 


VII. 

At  last  he  came,  the  messenger, 

The  messenger  from  unseen  lands 
And  what  did  dainty  Baby  Bell? 


Baby  Bell. 

She  only  crossed  her  little  hands, 
She  only  looked  more  meek  and  fair! 
We  parted  back  her  silken  hair, 
We  wove  the  roses  round  her  brow, — 
White  buds,  the  summer's  drifted  snow, 
Wrapt  her  from  head  to  foot  in  flowers 
And  thus  went  dainty  Baby  Bell 
Out  of  this  world  of  ours ! 


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